


Friends With Benefits

by bloodsoakedleather



Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Male Slash, Mild Angst, Past Mansell/Erica, Smut, unrequited Kent/Chandler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 17:36:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/994682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodsoakedleather/pseuds/bloodsoakedleather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Erica gone and Joe still oblivious, A drunken Mansell and a lonely Kent spend the night together, helping each other forget their heartaches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friends With Benefits

**Author's Note:**

> I actually had the idea for this before the events of series 4, episode 5 so I was mildly miffed about what happened as you can imagine. So yeah, anyway, Erica still left but for different reasons than on the show.

Kent stood just inside the pub door and scanned the drinkers, searching for Mansell. It didn't take long. He was hunched over the bar with one large hand wrapped around a half empty pint glass, several more empty glasses sat in a group a little to one side. Slowly Emerson made his way over, weaving between the not quite drunk yet patrons as he went and took a seat next to the other man.

"What do you want?" Finlay mumbled without looking up.

"I came to see how you we're doing. I was worried about you."

His sister's ex boyfriend snorted in disbelief.

"Yeah right. You must be dancing like a bloody daisy."

Kent screwed up his face and sighed. He could hardly blame Mansell for thinking that after the way he'd reacted to him and Erica going out, and maybe under different circumstances he would have been happy they'd split up but the circumstances weren't different and he wasn't happy. She'd dumped him without warning for another man and for some reason he felt the need to apologise for her.

"Well I'm not." He said. "I… Look, I know I acted like an arse about the two of you but only because you've got a reputation and I was afraid you were going to hurt her. I never thought she'd be the one to hurt you. I'm sorry."

Mansell didn't speak, he just stared down at his glass for what seemed like ages before finally downing what was left in it.

"I loved her, you know?" He said at last, his voice cracking slightly.

"I'm starting to see that, yeah."

"What's he like, her new bloke?"

"Honestly? I don't know what she sees in him. He's a bigger dickhead than you." The other man finally lifted his head and Kent flashed him a dimpled grin, hoping to lighten the mood. Somehow Finlay managed to choke out something resembling a chuckle himself. "Come on, let's get you home while you're still sober enough to remember your address.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The two men stumbled out of the taxi and up the front path, Mansell unsteady on his feet because of the beer, Emerson because of Mansell's weight as he leaned on him for support but in spite of that they made it to the door without any mishaps.

"Keys." Kent said, holding out his hand.

Mansell frowned.

"Keys, keys." He muttered, patting himself down until he located them in his front right trouser pocket. After some fumbling, he retrieved the keys and held them up. "Keys." He said triumphantly, dropping them into the waiting hand.

As he closed his hand around them, the tips of his fingers brushed briefly against Mansell's palm, the resulting tingle making him snatch his hand away as if burned.

"You look like her." Mansell said softly, his voice carrying a hint of sadness and a hint of wonder.

"Well, yeah." He answered, searching through the keys for the one that most looked like it would fit the door and unlocking it. "We are twi…" He never got to finish what he was saying, a large but gentle hand on his cheek shocked him into silence as it turned his face and a pair of surprisingly soft lips pressed against his own, temporarily short circuiting his brain. He wasn't entirely sure how long it took him to process what was happening, only that it was a while, but once he could think straight again he gave the other man a hard shove. "Christ!" He said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "You're drunker than I thought."

"Not so drunk I don't know what I'm doing." The other man said, looking at him through heavy lidded eyes and leaning in for another kiss.

"Don't!" He said firmly, turning his head at the last moment so Mansell's lips missed their target.

"What's wrong? I know you like blokes."

"I… What? I…" How the hell did Mansell know that? He'd never told anyone he was gay, not at work anyway. Close friends and family knew of course but… Shit! "Erica told you."

"She didn't have to. You ain't as good at hiding it as you think you are." Emerson's face flushed deep crimson.

"My sexual preferences are none of your bloody business." He snapped, hoping to cover his embarrassment with annoyance. "And anyway, just because I'm gay doesn't mean I want to jump into bed with every bloke I see. God! You straight blokes are all the same." He turned to leave but Mansell caught his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

"Wait, don't go. I'm sorry. I'm a dick, I know, I just… I don't want to be alone."

At that, Emerson felt all the anger drain from his body. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a long deep breath before turning back to the other man.

"You don't want me." He said softly. "You want Erica."

"And you don't want me, you want Chandler."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Not to him if that's what you're worried about." Well, he supposed that was something at least. "Stay. Please. It doesn't have to mean anything, just two mates helping each other out. You can even pretend I'm him if it helps. Whaddya say?"

Emerson didn't know what to say. He knew what he should say. He should say no. There were a million and one reason why he shouldn't even be considering it but the truth was he didn't want to be alone either. He was tired of being alone. He'd been alone too long and even though it was his own choice because his head was so full of Joseph bloody Chandler that it wouldn't be fair to anyone else, it still hurt. What Mansell was offering wasn't perfect, not by a long shot. It wasn't what either of them really wanted but maybe it was what they both needed. The chance to be close to someone again, just for a few hours without having to feel guilty.

"No one can find out." He said at last, decision made. "Ever."

"Just you and me. Cross my heart."

Somewhere in the back of his mind a little voice was telling him he'd probably regret this in the morning but he ignored it, and this time when Mansell kissed him, he didn't push him away.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

How they got there he wasn't entirely sure. He didn't remember stumbling through the door with Mansell's arms wrapped around him, he didn't remember tripping up the stairs and banging his elbow on the newel post at the top and he certainly didn't remember kicking of his shoes and socks or pulling his t-shirt over his head somewhere along the way. Yet here they were, bare footed and bare chested, both of them obviously rock hard, on Mansell's bed, mouths joined together in a desperate sloppy kiss, one ankle hooked over Mansell's calf for leverage as they ground their hips frantically together.

For a straight man, Mansell was more adventurous than Emerson had expected. He was the first of them to reach for the other's dick, stroking it firmly through Em's jeans and making his breath catch in his throat. Mansell chuckled softly, tugging at the button and zip that held Kent's fly together and when he slipped his hand inside and palmed his erection all Em could do was moan loudly and arch his back.

Suddenly impatient to get his hands on a dick that wasn't his own, Kent made a grab for Mansell's belt, yanking it open in near desperation.

"Bit eager ain't you?" The other man questioned with a grin.

"Well, it's been a while." Was the only answer Em could give

Mansell chuckled again, the sound dying on his lips when his own fly came open and Kent shoved his trousers down past his hips so he could wrap his surprisingly strong fingers around his length.

"Fuck." He mumbled, unable to keep from thrusting into Emerson's practised grip.

This time it was Kent who chuckled.

"Now who's eager?"

Not too much later, trousers and pants had gone the way of shoes and shirts and they were both naked. Kent's mind was reeling, either Mansell wasn't nearly as straight as he'd always assumed or he was drunk enough to just not give a shit because he was between his legs, happily slurping away at his cock and it felt amazing. Right then, Em couldn't care less if the other man was bi or just Brahms, all he cared about was wet heat surrounding him and the pleasure coiling tightly in his belly.

Forcing himself to keep his hips still and not push up into Mansell's more than willing mouth, he reached down, carding his fingers through the short blonde hair and finding just enough length to grab hold of and tug. Taking the hint, Mansell let his cock slip from between his lips and moved back up his body.

"Everything alright?" He asked, a hint of concern flickering behind his eyes.

"God yeah. But if you keep doing that, this is going to be over way too soon." He breathed raggedly, stealing another brief but hard kiss. "And I really need you to fuck me."

Mansell, and Kent thought dimly that he should probably start thinking of him as Finlay from now on given what they were about to do, blinked down at him briefly then nodded.

"Turn over." He instructed, swatting him on the thigh. Em did as he was told. Head pillowed on his forearms, he watched out of the corner of his eye as the other man riffled through the draw of his bedside cabinet for a few essential items and set them on the bed beside them. For the first time ever, Em decided he was glad his sister was so free and adventurous because Finlay had condoms and lube and… Oh God! He knew a thing or two about preparation too. When the first finger slipped inside him, every conscious thought but one suddenly fled his brain. All he could think about was how good that finger felt, how much better it felt than his own. When a second finger joined the first he stopped thinking almost altogether and by the time he had a third finger buried deep inside him there was nothing he could do but beg .

"Oh God! Oh fuck yeah. More, more, Finn please."

Finlay fucked him slow and deep and hard, his thick heavy cock rubbing deliciously against Em's prostate on each in and out stroke, strong, rough hands digging into his hips holding him in place and preventing him from thrusting back the way he wanted to. It was maddening but it was also incredible and he knew he wasn't going to last much longer. Pushing himself up on one hand, he took his cock in the other, stroking himself in time with the other man's fucking until he couldn't hold back any longer and he came with a gasp and a low rumbling groan, shooting thick, white ropes of cum all over the bed beneath him. He shuddered and shook and panted for breath as Finlay began to move faster. It only took a few more snaps of hips before he was cumming too and Em let out another low groan of pleasure. He'd forgotten how hot fresh cum felt inside you, he'd forgotten the rhythmic pulse as it sprayed against your inner walls. It was enough to wring a few more drops from him before he finally collapsed, completely spent.

"Fuck." Mansell mumbled hoarsely, pressing an unexpectedly tender kiss to the back of Kent's neck before carefully pulling out and collapsing beside him. "That was good."

"That was… better than… good, that was… Fuck." He rasped, easing himself onto his back with a slight wince. They both dissolved into quiet laughter, Mansell stretching out his limbs and throwing one arm haphazardly across Kent's chest.

"I dunno about you but I'm bloody knackered." He said, yawning. "I could sleep for a week." And before Emerson could even think about his reply, Mansell was snoring gently.

Kent couldn't help but smile, even as the awkwardness began to set in. This was not the way he'd expected his evening to go when he'd gone looking for the other man but it had been fun and he couldn't bring himself to regret it yet, although there was still time for that. But Mansell was another matter, he'd seemed okay with everything before he fell asleep but Emerson couldn't help but wonder if he'd still be okay with it come morning. He stared at the man for a while then sighed heavily before slipping out of bed, careful not to wake him, and started to gather up his clothes.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Thank God for weekends. It was two days before Kent knew he'd have to face Mansell again. He'd arrived unusually, but deliberately late on Monday morning, hoping to avoid having to make small talk and get straight to work. He'd had to endure a mild scolding from DI Chandler for his trouble but at least his plan had worked. He'd been slightly on edge most of the morning but by lunch time, when Mansell still hadn't been near him and no one had mentioned that either of them were acting strangely he started to feel a little better about things and by mid afternoon when still nothing had been said he actually started to relax.

That he supposed was why, on his return trip from the morgue with the test results he'd been waiting for, he didn't realise he had company until he felt the hand on his shoulder.

He practically jumped right out of his skin when he saw it was Mansell and promptly dropped the file on the floor.

"Christ! Don't sneak up on people like that. You frightened the bloody life out of me." He hissed, bending down to pick it up.

"I wouldn't have to sneak if you weren't avoiding me."

He blushed.

"I'm not avoiding you. I've been busy." He stood up, straightening his back and rearranging the papers inside the file, giving himself an excuse not to look up.

"You won't even look at me." He opened his mouth to deny the accusation but Mansell wasn't finished. "You were gone when I woke up."

He almost sounded hurt and Emerson felt himself blush even deeper.

"I thought it was for the best. I didn't think you'd want to see me there once you'd sobered up." He mumbled, finally daring to look up. The other man wore a deep frown.

"Do you really think I'm that big of an arsehole? On second thoughts, don't answer that." He sighed. "I'm not. I might act like one sometimes but I'm not."

"I didn't say you were. But you were drunk."

"Not so drunk I didn't know what I was doing." He lowered his voice. "Or who I was doing it with." He paused briefly, catching Kent's gaze, making him squirm in his shoes. "If I didn't want you to stay, I wouldn't have asked you to."

"Sorry." Em said quietly. He didn't know what else to say. Thankfully, he was spared the ordeal of trying when The DI, strolled towards them on his own way back to the office.

"Ah, Kent." He said. "Are those the test results from Doctor Llewellyn?"

"Yes Sir."

"Excellent. Bring them straight to my office would you?"

"Yes Sir." DI Chandler carried on walking and Kent's eyes followed him all the way to the end of the corridor until he disappeared around the corner. Even once he'd gone, Em's eyes remained fixed on the spot where he'd last been. A small breath caught in his throat and he turned back to see Mansell staring at him intently.

"You really like him don't you?" The other man said. It was an observation, not a question. "And I don't just mean fancy. You really…"

"Yes." He cut in quickly before Mansell could say the dreaded 'L' word. "I do." He looked away again. "You must think I'm stupid, pining after someone who's obviously not interested."

"Nah. I know I take the piss a lot, it's just the way I am, yeah? I don't mean anything by it. Besides, I know how it feels, loving someone who doesn't love you back."

"Erica." Kent whispered, remembering how broken the other man had been when he'd first found him in the pub that night, and how lost he'd sounded when he'd asked… begged him to stay.

Neither man said anything for some time, just stood in quiet understanding.

"Blimey. Would you look at us two, mooning about like a couple of teenaged girls. We ought to get back to work for anyone sees us. I've got my reputation to think of."

Mansell grinned and Kent couldn't help but grin back.

"And we wouldn't want to ruin that, would we?"

"Bloody right we wouldn't." He paused for a moment, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. Finally he asked. "So, uhm, do you fancy going for a drink after work or something?"

Emerson stared at him suspiciously, not quite sure if he was actually suggesting something else entirely and not quite sure if he actually wanted him to be.

"Or something?"

Now it was Mansell's turn to blush.

"Just a drink. That's all."

"That's all?"

"If that's all you want."

Kent shook his head and laughed softly. Of course he'd been suggesting something more. He was Finlay Mansell for God's sake.

"And if that's not all I want?"

"That's okay too."

"Friends with benefits?"

"Something like that." The other man gave him a wink so absurdly lascivious it made him laugh out loud and before long, both of them were laughing wholeheartedly, all their romantic woes temporarily forgotten.

"Yeah. Okay." Emerson said when he finally got his breath back. "A drink sounds good."


End file.
